Harry Potter and the Castle's Key
by greggsmk
Summary: Born in 1978, Harry Potter was raised to be normal. He soon learns that he is anything but; he's really a wizard meant to attend Hogwarts! Quickly befriending three fellow boys, Fred, George, and Lee, the foursome is off exploring the castle when they unleash something locked away for centuries. Now it is up to them to find it, stop it, and save Hogwarts! 1st Year Story, Not Slash.
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and everything associated with it are the property of J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Notes: Canon was a fun ride, but the less said about the plot holes, the deus ex machinas, and that…epilogue, the better. I was thinking about various ways to go about tweaking the universe to see what would happen and this popped into my head. The basic premise? Harry is born in 1978, two years earlier; though everything else remains unchanged. As such the first major change is that he goes through Hogwarts with Fred, George, and Lee. Let the chaos begin. Please enjoy!

* * *

Harry Potter and the Castle's Key

Prologue: The Early Years

* * *

**Hogwarts, December 1977**

The end-of-term feast had come and gone and the students were getting off to bed, eagerly awaiting the morning to signal the start of the winter holidays. For two of the students, in particular two seventh year Gryffindor students however, all was not quite well.

Lily Evans was most definitely not panicking. She simply was not the panicking type. In fact, she was so good at not panicking that she practically exuded an aura of calm, in spite of her cursed redheaded temper. As the Head Girl, she'd been doing her best to help keep Hogwarts free of the war that was heating up. It wasn't easy, with families out there still going missing and politics spilling their way into the school's hallways. It especially wasn't easy with James Potter: Hogwarts' lead Marauder, this year's Head Boy, and her new boyfriend thrown into the mix. No, even with all that was going on in the world, she was completely and utterly at peace.

"Ah, James? I think we need to talk…"

Oh, to hell with it. She was panicking.

And, for that matter, upon hearing his scarily brilliant girlfriend say those dreaded words, James Potter began panicking slightly himself. Was she going to break up with him? Had something happened to her sister, the only family she had left? Was she upset with his pranks again? He'd toned them down recently…well, except for Snivellus' new magical breast implants. And the giant battle robot he and Sirius had tried to assemble using the various statues around the castle. And the disco fever party in the Headmaster's Office he'd invited her to…

In all fairness, Professor Dumbledore _had_ been the one to request "Macho Man"…

"Yes, Lily? What's going on…?"

"Not here. Can we talk in the head suite? No Marauders tonight?"

A look of consternation passed across his face, which turned to confusion, "No, Wormtail is with Moony in the library tonight, and Padfoot's off trying to woo the 'ferociously hot Amelia' with his 'patented Black magick'." The two of them left the Gryffindor common room and entered the Head Suite that was magically attached, James following behind her.

"Oh. Good. Oka-wait, what? Seriously? 'Black magick'?"

"Marauder's honor."

"Oh, never mind. Just come here. Look, you remember the night after the Halloween Feast?"

Indeed he did. That had become one of his most unforgettable memories. Merlin, even if he'd hoped, he had never expected Lily to be such a wildcat in bed. He hadn't even known some of the positions she'd shown him… "Of course. I doubt I could forget that night if I wanted to. Why? Looking for a repeat performance, perhaps?"

Lily turned away for a moment, but James could see the small grin that appeared on her face, "Maybe later, but…it's just…ithinkiscrewedupthecharm…"

"Sorry, love. Could you say that again? Slower this time for us poor uneducated Marauders?"

She took a deep breath and let it out, "I think I messed up the contraceptive charm."

At that, James was struck silent, so she soldiered on, "I've been showing…signs, so I went to go see Madame Pomfrey this morning, and she confirmed it. James…I'm pregnant."

James was quiet, still deeply in thought, and fed up with his silence, she let her temper come to the fore, "Say something, dammit!"

He jerked, and a huge smile leapt across his face, "Hold, that thought, give me a moment. I'll be right back!" And with that, James quickly rushed off to the bedroom connected to the suite, and the sounds of fervent rummaging reached Lily's ears. Barely a minute had passed before he excitedly ran back in, his arm held behind his back. Screeching to a halt in front of a bewildered and somewhat terrified Lily, he began to speak.

"Lily, I suppose this isn't exactly how we wanted this to happen, and I know this isn't exactly how I intended to ask, but…" Solemnly, James went down on one knee before her and brought his hands out in front of him, a small black jewelry box held within. Opening it and bearing the ring within aloft, he continued, "Lily Marie Evans, I love you with all of my heart, and for the longest time, I've known that you're the one witch I'd want to be with. While I can't promise you a perfect life, I can promise you that I will do everything in my power and more to give you the absolute best one I can. Would you do me the utmost honor and privilege of becoming my wife and sharing your life with mine?"

Tears began gathering in her eyes, and she threw herself at him, dragging him off the ground and hugging him for all she was worth.

"Umm…is that a yes?"

"Yes! Yes, you complete and utter prat! Yes I'll marry you!"

"Oh! Awesome!"

She pulled back a little and wiped the tears from her eyes, giving him one of her legendary stares, "Awesome, James?"

"Well it is!"

And then suddenly she seemed to shrink in to herself a little, and James only caught the glimmer of fear that crossed her face because of all the time he'd spent Lily-watching over the years, "James, you're not…you're not just doing this because of the baby, are you?"

He pulled himself up to his full height, and the confident grin she'd fallen in love with appeared on his face. When he spoke, it was quiet and calm, a sign of the man he was finally becoming, "Honestly, Lily, yes and no. No, because I've been waiting and wondering when I should ask you, and I can't think of anyone else I could possibly want to marry. Yes, because as old fashioned as it may sound to you, my parents tried to raise me to do right by people. And I know that I'm always pranking, but I want this child to have both a mother and a father to love and grow up with. And I want that to be us, together."

"Okay…"

And all of a sudden, the largest, cheesiest, maddeningly happy grin came across his face, and James knelt down, placing his head and hands upon her belly. "You hear that, little man? Your mom just agreed to make your dad the happiest man in the world. And even though you probably can't hear me right now, I want you to know that I love you, and I'm going to keep loving you, and nothing in this world is going to stop me from doing so."

A small smile crept across Lily's face, quickly becoming a smirk, "Little man, huh? You know it's going to be a girl, don't you James?"

"Balderdash! Gonna be a son, of course! I'm a wizard, don't you know. I can tell."

* * *

**Potter Ancestral Manor, June 1978**

Many things had changed since that fortuitous day James learned of his child and proposed. He and Lily had gotten married over the winter break in a small ceremony held at his family home, its protections being some of the strongest he'd known about. They had been joined only by their closest friends and mentors. As both of their parents had been killed during the pair's sixth year, others had stepped in to help out.

Filius Flitwick, with whom Lily had been close and was pursuing a Charms Mastery, had offered to give her away, and a delighted Lily had accepted the kindly teacher's offer. Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall had both been present, joining the two in celebration. James had even seen a tear or two escaping Minnie's eyes, something he'd teased the old battleaxe relentlessly about. Sirius had of course claimed the right of being his Best Man, and he along with Remus and Peter had stood at his side during the ceremony. Alice Longbottom, who'd been a friend and older mentor to Lily during her Hogwarts years, had stood in as her Matron of Honor.

The year had swiftly progressed, and before long, they had graduated, with Lily earning the top scores for their class and James pulling a very close second. That tidbit of knowledge had resulted in much pouting and make-up sex to reassure him that just because he was second place in school, he was still very important to Lily.

The pair had foregone the healer's charms that would tell them what the sex of their child would be, largely due to the playful argument that had arisen and continued as her pregnancy progressed. Speaking of which, Lily was now quite round and James spent quite a bit of time doing everything he could to assist her, reassure her, and generally bother her by trying to be overly helpful.

Aside from their new domestic life, James had been accepted into the Auror Program, and would be starting his training alongside Sirius, who had joined up with him. Moreso, Lily and James, along with several of their classmates, had joined up with Dumbledore's Order of the Phoenix, a covert organization dedicated to fighting dark and evil wizards, in particular the current Dark Lord terrorizing the country, Lord Voldemort. Already, James had joined the group in helping to prevent several attacks, and he had the dubious honor of having survived in battle with the Dark Lord himself thrice already. Today, however, would alter the future he and Lily had planned out.

James paused in the middle of reminiscing, as the wards alerting him to the Floo system had suddenly lit up. There were only six people aside from him and Lily who had permanent access, and he wondered why someone had come. If there was an Order meeting or an attack to respond to, he would have been notified via Patronus-message, so obviously something was up. Drawing his wand and leaving the study, he walked down the stairway and into the foyer, where the Manor's fireplace was hooked up. Upon seeing the bearded man wearing a lime green robe and shockingly orange hat, James relaxed a fraction, and called out to Lily, "Love! Dumbledore's here!"

"Hello, James. I'm afraid that what I have learned today precludes me from saying 'good afternoon'."

A tingle of fear hit the base of his spine, and James silently gestured upstairs, where the family study and Lily waited. The headmaster nodded, and followed the young Lord Potter up the stairs and into the cozy room, its walls filled with bookcases and its floor with a large desk and several chairs and couches. Lily was reclining on the leftmost one, a heavy tome of charms opened in her hands.

Once they had all settled, Dumbledore began to speak, his voice cheerful for the moment, "Lily, my dear. You look radiant, and it brings gladness to my heart to see such love bearing fruition." It dropped then, becoming quiet and unusually restrained, "I am afraid, however, that I am here with a rather serious bit of news that pertains to you both."

"It's good to see you too, Professor. What's the news?"

"I have recently become aware of an important bit of information regarding the war, and I believe, the three of you. You may not have been aware, but Professor Calchas, our Divination instructor, retired at the end of last year. While I was honestly content to allow the subject to fall from our curriculum, an applicant contacted me about the position. She is the great-great-granddaughter of a very famous and very gifted seer, and I met her out of common courtesy. At first I was disappointed, as she seemed to show no signs of the talent herself; but as I turned to leave, she entered a trance and began to give a true prophecy- in particular, a prophecy regarding the Tom's downfall. And unfortunately, I believe it refers to your family. These are the words she spoke: _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches ... born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies ... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not ... and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives ... the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…_"

The three were silent for a time, simply absorbing the words. James was the first to break the silence, turning to Lily and giving her a shaky smile, a smile that didn't reach his eyes, "Well…I suppose that means I win, doesn't it?"

Furiously, Lily faced her husband and snapped out, "What!"

"You heard the Professor: 'and the Dark Lord will mark _him_ as his equal…' I told you, it's going to be a boy."

"Dammit, James! Professor, how could this be our child? I mean…James has fought him three times, but I certainly haven't, and just…how could a child possibly defeat _him_? Why must it be us?"

"Lily, dear, that's not the problem. Though I was unaware at the time, apparently one of Tom's servants overheard the first half of the prophecy, up to the time of birth. When I realized that he was listening in, I drove him away, but I've no doubt that by now he has reported back to his master. And I know for a fact that he is aware of your pregnancy and when you expect the child to come."

Lily shrunk in on herself, before quietly asking the question that had immediately crossed both her and James' minds, "…Who was it? The servant?"

Dumbledore appeared to age even more than his already advanced years before their eyes, and tiredly, his gaze found Lily's own, "…I am sorry, Lily. It was Severus."

White-hot rage coursed through James' veins, "You mean to tell me, that that…slimy…good-for-nothing…Death Eating _bastard_ just told his master to come straight after us?"

Gravely, the old man pushed his glasses up his large nose and nodded, "And that, James, is the deadliest of problems. While I have my own doubts as to whom the prophecy speaks of, I have _no_ doubt that Tom will not leave it up to chance. He is indeed, almost certain to come after the two of you. This brings me to my next point: I feel that in order to ensure both your safety and the safety of your child, you two should go into hiding. Potter Manor is a very well-defended home, but it would not last under a full assault by Tom and his Death Eaters."

"So what the bloody hell do you want us to do?"

"There is a charm, an old charm that should be able to hide you safely away. Lily, you may have heard of it: the Fidelius?"

"Just briefly, and only by name. Professor Flitwick has mentioned it in his lessons. But, it requires another person, doesn't it?"

"Indeed. Both Filius and I know it and are able to cast it, and would be able to teach it to you; but the charm requires a trusted man or woman to take the mantle of secret-keeper. The charm itself is placed upon a house. Generally, the smaller and more unknown the house is, the stronger the charm becomes. You see, it causes everyone who has knowledge of the residence to forget its existence, save the secret-keeper, who can tell of it to whomever they please. As such, if you were to live under it, no one save those the secret-keeper tells would know your location even existed."

"…And it would be safe, then?"

"Nothing is ever perfect, of course, but this is the most secure way of hiding you I can think of. I understand that you will need to speak about this, but before I take my leave, I would like to extend an offer. I am in possession of a house in Godric's Hollow; indeed, it is the cottage that I grew up in many years ago. While it is in good repair, I am sufficiently aged that the number of people who know about it are very few. Should you choose to use the Fidelius, I would gladly extend to you the use of this cottage for as long as you need. Now, I need to get back to Hogwarts, and I know you have much to discuss. I would ask, if you will, that you refrain from speaking about this prophecy with any number of people. You can obviously imagine what would happen if word of the rest of its contents got out."

"Of course, Professor…thank you for telling us."

"Always, dear boy. And…I am sorry, that you have been put in this position." With that, the old wizard left the study and went down the stairs. James felt the wards reacting as the headmaster flooed away, leaving him and Lily to simply gaze at each other in silence, neither one knowing what to say.

* * *

**Godric's Hollow, January 1979**

The last months had been a hectic flurry of action for the young couple. The Death Eaters had, in fact, attacked them at the Potter Ancestral Manor. Though the wards had been strong enough to fend them off along with James', Lily's and Sirius' help, the attack had convinced the couple to take up Dumbledore's offer. As such, they had quickly and quietly moved to the little cottage tucked away in the sleepy town, and James had completely locked down the Manor. After discussing it with Sirius, they had chosen to make Peter the secret-keeper, and the short man was fiercely happy to be of use.

Sirius had suggested that he would act overtly as the secret-keeper in order to draw attention to him and away from Peter. Remus, unfortunately, had been considered and then abandoned as a viable option. Voldemort had been offering potent incentives for the werewolves to join his cause, and many had already enlisted with him. As much as the pair trusted Remus, they knew that his condition weighed heavily on him, both personally and societally, and simply couldn't take the chance that he would betray them. As such, on a quiet night of last year's August, Lily had performed the charm along with James, Harry, and Peter, and the small family had begun to live in secrecy.

Such deception and anxiety was matched, however, by the joy that had come into their lives. Little Harry James Potter had been born on July 31st, 1978, at nearly midnight. Despite Lily's attempts to hold on a little longer, it seemed the boy would be born in accordance with the prophecy, much to his parents' dismay. James had tried to make light of the situation by confirming his proclamation of Harry being his son; that is at least, until Lily proceeded to crush his hand and nearly deafen him. A quiet baby with a shock of dark hair and blue eyes that had soon changed to match Lily's green orbs, Harry was the recipient of much love from his entire extended family.

When James and Lily had named the godparents, Alice had reacted with quiet dignity, smiling and hugging Lily. Sirius had been more rambunctious, proclaiming his joy and promptly changing into Padfoot to play with Harry, much to the infant's delight. And for a while, life resumed its pace. James continued to train with the aurors, care for Harry, and occasionally venture out with the Order to assist in facing the Death Eaters. Lily continued working towards her Charms Mastery, in between watching over Harry and researching spells that would help the Order and help her protect Harry should Voldemort come after them directly.

As she was a capable witch in her own right, however, occasionally she would be called to join the rest of the Order in repelling the increasing Death Eater attacks, which were happening almost daily. When that began happening, she turned to the rest of the Order for help in watching and protecting Harry, and Arthur Weasley along with Gideon and Fabian Prewett, all Order members, had approached her with an offer. Arthur's wife and the twins' sister, Molly Weasley, had given birth to a pair of twins the last April named Fred and George. As she worked from home and was constantly watching over them and their older brothers, Bill, Charlie, and Percy, the kindly woman had offered to keep guard over Harry whenever Lily was required out on the front lines.

It was on a cold January morning that Harry would first begin to alarm his parents. Even at five months, Harry had already begun showing signs of accidental magic. Small things, such as turning Sirius' Padfoot form a glaring purple, or magically refilling his bottle of milk, were looked on with pride. James in particular, had been ecstatic when Harry, wanting his favorite stuffed animal (A fuzzy black dog, much to James' consternation) had summoned it from across the room. However, this day, Harry had been staying awake and refusing to go to sleep, and when Lily picked him up to rock him until he fell into slumber, the young boy had promptly apparated back to his crib and begun babbling and gumming the stuffed animal there.

The worried parents had immediately fire-called Madame Pomfrey, who'd been the one to deliver and help care for Harry in his infancy. The mediwitch had, after consulting with Dumbledore, suggested binding his magic until he entered Hogwarts. While not the ideal solution, it would prevent the most powerful of accidental magic from manifesting, and James and Lily had agreed. The ritual took place that very night and Harry, exhausted by it all, was quickly lost to the arms of Morpheus.

* * *

**Privet Drive, Halloween 1979**

The night was chilly and quiet as the Albus Dumbledore apparated into the small neighborhood. Quietly removing his put-outer for his robes, he began capturing the light from the streetlamps. It wouldn't be long before Hagrid would be arriving with young Harry in tow. Suddenly turning, he faced the small tabby cat that had snuck up on him, and greeted his fellow professor with a tired smile as she transformed into her human form.

Minerva McGonagall had not been having an easy night. She'd heard the rumors flying back and forth about Voldemort's downfall, but it hadn't yet sunk in. When she had learned, however, that Albus planned on entrusting little Harry to his muggle relatives, she had immediately departed to see what they were like. If Albus was willing to override the Potter's choices in godfather and godmother, Sirius Black and Alice Longbottom respectively, then there had better be a very good reason.

As such, she had spent the day in her animagus form, prowling about and learning all she could about the young couple who lived at Number Four, Privet Drive. And in the end, she had discovered that they were just dreadfully normal. She couldn't figure out just what Albus planned on, the two Dursleys would hardly be able to put up a fight if any Death Eaters came calling.

Calling out to Albus, she spoke in a quiet, tired voice, "Is it true, then, Albus? Has You-Know-Who really been defeated?"

"It is true, Minerva."

"And what of the Potters, what happened to them?"

"James and Lily were both killed. It appears, however, that when Tom turned his wand upon young Harry, the killing curse rebounded and vanquished him."

"How is that possible?"

"I do not know, but I will begin researching it immediately. Lily had informed me that she was looking into several ancient charms that may be able to protect Harry. It would appear that she may have been successful."

"So why here? Why are you letting these muggles raise him, when I'm sure both Sirius and the Longbottoms would be happy to take the boy in. Much as I dread the thought of Sirius Black raising a child, I know that there's likely no one alive in this world who loves Harry more. And both Alice and Frank are good, level-headed people; I understand they've even begun trying for a child of their own. So why these dreadfully normal people?"

"Because if what I suspect Lily managed to accomplish is true, then there is simply no safer place for the child." The sound of a motorbike suddenly reached the pair, and they looked about in confusion before turning upwards to see an incredibly large man flying out of the sky on a proportionally small bike, "And here is Hagrid even now. Come, Minerva, let us go see about young Harry."

"Hagrid, just where did you get that motorbike!"

The half-giant dismounted from the bike, clutching a small item tightly in his left arm. Walking over to the two Professors, Hagrid revealed the object to be the tiny Harry Potter in question, wrapped in blankets and sound asleep, "Er, aye, perfessor. Borrowed it offa youn' Sirius Black, who was a' th' Potters'. Careful' now, 'e fell asleep o'er Bristol, bless 'is li'l 'eart."

As Albus took the young boy from Hagrid's arms, Minerva kept her gaze to the large man's, finding his eyes weary and sad, "So it is truly over, Hagrid?"

"Aye, Perfessor. Saw th' bodies 'n took li'l Harry here from th' rubble meself. James 'n Lily're gone, 'n You-Know-Who's jus' a pil 'o ash 'n a robe 'n wand. Speakin' 'o which, Perfessor Dumbledore, thought you ought te be havin' this." With that, Hagrid reached into one of the many pockets of his moleskin jacket and withdrew an ornate wand, passing it over to the headmaster. Nearly thirteen inches in length, its handle had been replaced with a bone grip. The wand of Lord Voldemort.

Minerva finally moved closer to get a better look at the young boy. Gasping slightly, she gestured to the small lightning bolt scar that marred his forehead. "Albus, is that where…?"

"Yes. It is a curse-scar, and if I am not mistaken, I do believe that is where young Harry here reflected Tom's killing curse."

Quietly, the venerable headmaster accepted the wand and tucked it away in his robe before turning back to Harry. Silently, he tapped the sides of his spectacles with his wand, causing the lenses to emit a muted flash before speaking to the others. "Interesting. It appears that Lily did indeed protect young Harry with a charm. A form of sacrificial blood magic, if these runes are to be believed. That confirms my hunch, Harry will indeed be safest with his relatives, and in particular, his Aunt. I will extend the blood ward to tie Harry, his aunt, and the house together. In doing so, it will ensure that no one with Tom's magic upon them will be able to harm the three."

At the headmaster's pronouncement, Hagrid finally began to break down, loudly sniffling and letting out blubbery tears. Minerva was there to pat him on the arm and conjure him an oversized handkerchief, which the half-giant loudly blew his nose into. "Chin up, Hagrid. I don't like it either, but if it's for the best, then that's the way it ought to be."

"I know, I jus'…sniff…'e's so li'l! 'N wi' James 'n Lily gone….jus' don' seem righ' is all…"

Albus smiled wearily up at the moping gamekeeper, and drew his wand. Conjuring a small basket, he placed Harry into it and cast a potent warming charm upon the bundle. It would keep the night's chill away from him until he was found. Removing a letter he had written for just this situation, he placed it in the basket and set the whole thing down upon small landing as the base of the front door. Finally quiet, Hagrid bent down and gave Harry one final pat to the head before standing up and saying his goodbyes. Quickly, the large man strode to the motorbike parked in the street and started it up, rolling down the drive and then as he gained speed, up into the night sky.

Solemnly, Albus drew his wand once more, and touching it to the center of Harry's body, began to weave the complex wards that would extend out from Harry and tie into his closest blood-relative. It took several minutes before he was satisfied, both with the blood wards' protection and other passive protection and monitoring spells that he'd put in place. Sheathing his wand, the old man turned to one of his oldest friends and supporters and nodded.

"Now come, Harry will be fine, and we have much to do in order to keep this world of ours running." The headmaster took out his put-outer and returned the lights to the streetlamps. With a final look at the small basket containing the wizarding world's newest savior, the two professors apparated away with a pair of quiet pops.

* * *

**Privet Drive, June 1980**

Vernon Dursley was a perfectly normal man, and that was exactly the way he liked it. That was why, as much as he loved his wife, it still slightly irked him to know that she was related to a _witch_. As in a wand-waving, broomstick-flying, curse-casting _witch_. What's worse, there were apparently many _witches_ and _wizards_ living their lives hidden away all over the world. His Petunia had certainly stressed that while he was able to know thanks to her relation, he was not to speak of it, or they would come and erase his memories.

Imagine the gall! To just go around erasing decent people's memories!

The worst part of it, however, was young Harry. Apparently Petunia's sister had found herself a husband, had a child, and then had gone and gotten herself blown up somehow. The end result being that Vernon and Petunia's very magical nephew had been left on their front door for them to raise with naught but a letter to explain. It wasn't that he hated the boy; he was practically an infant, and thus wholly innocent. But Harry was still a constant reminder that there were people out in the world that laughed in the face of the word "normal."

And Vernon simply didn't like that one bit.

He and Petunia had, for some time, been talking about having a child of their own, and after Harry had arrived, Petunia had grown a bit more insistent. He was hardly against the idea, and once she had gotten pregnant, he'd become incredibly proud. That feeling only increased when the two of them went in to find out the sex of their child, and upon learning that he was going to have a son, Vernon had become ecstatic. A fact his fellow coworkers at Grunnings were quick to remind him of and rib him with whenever they could.

Finally, the long wait had come to an end, with Petunia having delivered their firstborn, Dudley, not three hours ago. And the first time he had held him, Vernon was simply struck speechless. Petunia was resting now, Dudley was currently in the care of the nursery, one small bonneted baby among several others, and Vernon was sitting outside the window with his very awake nephew in his carrier.

"Up pease?" Such was the level of surreal that had become Vernon Dursley's life that he didn't even bat an eye at Harry's request. Bending, he grabbed the young boy and lifted him up, allowing him to see into the room filled with sleeping children and milling nurses. All of a sudden, he felt the inexplicable urge to brag to his nephew, and calmly got the boy's attention, pointing to the crib nearest them.

"Harry, that's your cousin Dudley. That's my boy! Say hi, Harry."

The almost-toddler raised his hand in an approximation of a wave and cheerfully spoke, "Hi Dud!"

And in that moment, as much as he liked to pretend that the fantastical world of _witches_, _wizards_, _dragons,_ and _castles_ and what have you didn't exist, a thought suddenly struck him. Perhaps…perhaps all _magic_ aside, maybe this wouldn't be so bad. Harry and Dudley growing up together? They'd raise the boys right and normal of course, but maybe, just maybe, it would turn out well.

After all, if _magic_ and _witches_ and _wizards_ existed, why not miracles, too?

* * *

**Privet Drive, November 1983**

The last few months had been awesome, and Harry was having a blast. Since he'd turned five, Harry had become eligible and required to attend primary school, and he'd taken to it with relish. Already, he was showing signs of being quite advanced for his age, something he had begun to take great pride in. School was, according to his Aunt Petunia, something both his parents had excelled at. That had been one of the few scant details he'd managed to get out of her regarding them. The only other things he'd learned were that their names were Lily and James, and that they'd been killed in a car crash, and whenever he'd try and press for more, she would either clam up or get angry. Harry had learned not to ask after the second time he'd been sent to his room without supper.

Dudley had been jealous of his older cousin getting to go to school, but had quieted down when Aunt Petunia had taken him out shopping to buy him a new video game. Even Harry could understand Dudley's frustration, especially since Harry got to learn and meet new friends and play and more. Dudley had looked up to Harry practically from the moment he could walk. Harry's aunt and uncle, however, had seemed a little upset by their son's hero worship. Weird.

Honestly, weird things seemed to be pretty normal for Harry. Once, when his Aunt Marge had been visiting for Dudley's birthday with her newest bulldog, Thresher, something had happened that had completely baffled the young boy. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon had been inside talking with Uncle Vernon's sister, and Harry had been out playing in the yard with Dudley. Aunt Marge had then decided to let Thresher get some air, and had sent him out into the yard as well.

Well, the bulldog hadn't taken too kindly to the pair of boys who were already leaping around the lawn. Running towards them, he'd begun snarling and barking, and the pair had frozen up, fearful of the angry dog. Aunt Marge's shout that Thresher just wanted to play with them hadn't helped, and when the dog lunged in to nip at Harry, something extraordinary happened. Harry had felt a jolt of something rushing up in him, leaving him feeling tingly, but Thresher had apparently felt something quite different. When the bulldog's fangs had closed over Harry's arm, he had promptly let out a startled yip and leapt backwards. His fur suddenly began sticking out in every direction, and he'd run back to the back door, whining and pawing at it.

Aunt Marge had been angry and upset, shouting at Harry and yelling at him for hurting her precious Thresher. Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon's reactions, however, had been even stranger. They'd hauled him inside out of the yard and up to his room, the smallest bedroom in the house. Aunt Petunia had been crying and shaking her head, and Uncle Vernon had turned purple and started shouting about freakishness.

Harry didn't know what he'd done wrong, but resolved to try and avoid doing things that upset his Aunt and Uncle so. Whatever this freakishness was, it was surely a bad thing…

* * *

**Privet Drive, October 1985**

Harry Potter was seven years old, and he was the best kid in his class. He knew, from talking with the other kids and comparing homework, that his was the best. Which is why, when Dudley brought home his first grades, Harry didn't know why his Aunt and Uncle had gotten so upset. He knew they didn't really like him very much, not as much as they liked Dudley, certainly. But they had always just sat back away from him and avoided him. Never really paying much attention to what he was doing or what he said. In truth, Harry thought they just paid attention to him to humor Dudley, who had yet to get over his case of hero worship.

The dilemma than, was that Harry knew he was a good kid and a good student. And he knew, after asking Dudley about the grades he had brought home, that Dudley had not done as well as he had in previous years. So when his Aunt and Uncle, who'd always insisted he be a good and normal child told him that he was making their Dudley look bad and that he ought not to be doing so well, Harry took it to heart. Rather, he took the lesson to mean be a good and normal child and learn the school stuff right, but on the surface, make it look like he was not doing so well.

It was during school that something weird happened again. Harry had been looking out the window, watching Dudley and the younger kids out playing when he'd spotted something bad. Dudley had been surrounded by several other kids, who were laughing and pushing the chubby boy around. Angered at the thought of some brats making fun of his little cousin, Harry had gritted his teeth and focused all of his attention on the field, trying to memorize their faces. All of a sudden, he felt weird, as though he was being squeezed through a tube, and with a loud pop, Harry had been out on the field standing over Dudley. Not even thinking about how he'd gotten there, Harry had immediately began shouting and attacking the kids who were picking on his cousin.

That stunt had earned him detention, both for being out of his class and for fighting. When he and Dudley had gotten home later on, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon looked torn between angry at him and proud of him. As such, they'd simply settled back into their routine disinterest. Harry, on the other hand, had finally settled down (shut away in his room once more) and was trying to recreate that feeling that let him move to where Dudley had been. After an hour, all he had to show for it was a strong desire to pee, which he didn't think counted.

* * *

**Privet Drive, June 1989**

The sounds of shouting woke Harry up from his sleep, something he was taking every chance to get now that it was summer break. What was- oh, right. Dudley's birthday was today. That would explain the shouting. Dudley must have gotten a few too few presents this year. Knowing he wouldn't be getting any more sleep, Harry sat up and reached for his glasses. They were a pair of thick, old black frames, but the lenses within were shiny and new. His birthday present last year. Putting them on, Harry could once again see clearly, and after stripping off his pajamas he threw on his clothes for the day. Sleepily rubbing his eyes, Harry padded out of the small bedroom and over to the loo before Dudley would come up and drag him down to participate.

Quickly finishing up, Harry waited for the inevitable pounding of feet up the stairs. He didn't have to wait long, and was in the middle of brushing his teeth when he heard Dudley burst into his bedroom. "Ah'm 'n th' loo, Dud." He opened the door and leaned out, toothbrush hanging out, and he wasn't disappointed. Dudley cam racing out of the little bedroom and down the hall, so Harry hurried up.

He'd barely finished when Dudley reached him and grabbed his arm, talking a blue streak about all the presents downstairs, and the cake they'd be having later, and the trip they'd be going on today. Harry let the now nine year old drag him down the stairs, clearly heaving mightily to get his obstinate older cousin to move faster. Harry almost laughed, it was a tradition that the two cousins had shared ever since Dudley had been able to try and drag him about, and considering the young boy's heft, he was quite good at it.

Quickly reaching the bottom and being dragged into the sitting room, Harry took in the large number of presents scattered and piled about. Dudley had apparently already been down counting and was satisfied, given the lack of tantrums he was throwing. Released, Harry moved over to stand at the side of the room as Dudley began tearing through the paper. Midway through his fourteenth present (a new bicycle, Harry noted, as Dudley had broken the last one) Aunt Petunia stepped halfway into the room, the phone's receiver held and covered by her hand.

"Vernon, Ms. Figg is on the line. She says that she broke her leg, and won't be able to watch Harry while we're out."

The gruff man nodded and began scratching one of his several chins, "Well, what about-"

"They're gone for the summer, Vernon. Off on a trip around the continent."

"I suppose there's nothing to it then, we'll have to take the boy with us." At that pronouncement, Harry couldn't help but start smiling. He'd never ever gotten to go out on one of Dudley's birthday trips, and he'd only seen pictures of animals, let alone a whole zoo's worth.

Upon hearing this, Dudley leapt up, his face an odd split between horror and happiness, "Harry's coming? But he never comes on birthday trips! And…and I thought it was just going to be Piers and me!"

"Now, now, Dudders, don't be upset. I promise we'll buy you and Piers each a knickerbocker glory to make up for it." It was midmorning before Dudley had finished both his presents and his breakfast, and in the ensuing chaos, Harry had managed to sneak an extra piece of toast before the family all piled into the car and went on their way.

The drive didn't take long, even with a diversion to pick up Piers Polkiss, Dudley's best friend, and the five quickly reached the London Zoo. Harry had to follow behind and stay close to the group, but even then it was fantastic. Seeing all the animals from his books come to life? Magical. After they'd passed the primates, during which Harry had noticed a strange resemblance between Dudley and the gorilla, Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon pulled them all aside for lunch before the reptile house. Dudley and Piers both got their knickerbocker glories, but since Dudley's wasn't big enough, Harry got to eat his while Dudley got a second one. It was the first one he'd ever had, and it was awesome.

Soon enough, the whole group had finished up and made their way into the reptile house, and it was here that something weird happened to Harry once more. Dudley had immediately run up to the boa constrictor exhibit, and seeing it lying still, he'd begun banging on the glass. It didn't make the large snake move, but it did get Harry's attention, and he wandered over to see the snake himself. Dudley abandoned the display to go look at the cobras, and Harry, left alone, began to talk to the constrictor.

"Hey, sorry about that. He's usually more behaved, but I think all the fun got to him."

The boa, apparently attracted to his voice, slithered up to the glass dividing them, and began flicking its tongue out, and then something really weird happened. Harry heard a soft voice coming from the exhibit, "It'sss alright. All the little onesss ssseem to do that."

Struck dumb for a moment, Harry looked around him, before turning back to the snake and whispering, "Can…can you understand me?"

The snake nodded its head, "Yesss, you did not know?"

"No! I didn't know snakes could talk. So, uh, where are you from?"

The snake's tail lifted and pointed to the placard beside the window. Specifically, the line that read, "Native to Brazil."

"Brazil! Cool! Was it nice there?"

The snake shook its head and pointed again and Harry kept reading, "Specimen born in captivity."

"Oh. Okay, that's like me, you know. I was raised with my aunt and uncle over there. This is the first time I've been to London, see."

Dudley, however, upon seeing his cousin looking at the very close and awake snake, rushed over, pushing Harry to the side and banging on the glass again. And finally Harry got annoyed with his little cousin. He'd finally done something strange again, he thought, and then Dudley had to come and interrupt. Getting fed up with the banging, Harry couldn't help but focus on the glass, and suddenly the glass just vanished, and there was nothing between Harry, Dudley, and the snake. Grabbing Dudley and yanking him backwards, the two hit the ground just in time to see the very large snake slithering out of its display and right up close to them, nodding its head.

"Thanksss amigo. Brasssil, here I come!"

It then began slithering out of the reptile house to the screams of the other patrons. Harry couldn't help himself, and called out as the snake left, "Ummm…you're welcome!"

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were less than pleased, however, and quickly gathered the three children, bustling them back to the car and quickly making their way back to Privet Drive. Once they'd dropped off Piers and set Dudley down in the kitchen with supper, the two furious adults had dragged him upstairs, shouting all the while. Once more, Harry had been shut in his room without supper.

Having little else to do, Harry began to read one of the few books he had in his room before getting to bed early. Maybe if he was lucky, he'd be able to wake up earlier than normal and sneak some food out before breakfast. Hopefully his aunt and uncle would have calmed down by then. Once it grew dark, he shut off the light and turned in. Little did Harry know that a great, tawny owl had been steadily winging its way south towards Number Four, Privet Drive that very night with an envelope clutched in its talons. An envelope made of thick parchment, and addressed in spidery green ink.

* * *

Author's Notes: I want to say something regarding the pairings since they're such a hotly debated topic in the Potterverse. For the record, this will not be canon compliant. The most obvious reason is that growing up with Fred and George, Harry is going to look upon Ginny as even more of a little sister than in canon. That said, I am currently undecided as to whom exactly to pair him up with. I can think up plausible reasons for a whole bevy of women to eventually end up with him, but A: realistically, it's not likely to be the very first witch he gets into a relationship with, and B: that is going to come _way_ down the road. I've generally planned out the story throughout the seven Hogwarts years and a little beyond, and I'm going to eventually be massively diverging from canon: the effects will be overt and noticeable. So, feel free to let me know who you want to see him end up with and why, it may inspire me, but as the story progresses we'll just have to see where it ends up. And no, despite how neat it would be to set Harry up with a harem of horny honeys, he will indeed become a one-witch man.

The three pranks at the beginning are a small tribute to the wonderfully imaginative short story, "Padfoot Prohibited," by Ever-Changing Anthem. Also, I'm not sure if Lily's middle name was ever given in canon, and the Harry Potter Wiki is not helpful. Thus I chose to use (the likely fanon creation) Marie. It won't play a big part, but if anyone knows the correct name, please let me know. I'd like to keep the story's facts as canon-accurate as possible unless I'm deliberately changing them. The Dursleys, for example, are supposed to appear a bit nicer and more negligent than in canon, but still pretty horrible people. And I'm sorry if anything is terribly inaccurate, I haven't read the Philosopher's Stone in years and I don't have my copy with me, so I'm working off of memory and the Harry Potter Wiki.

Now, while I know "Harry with bound magic" is an overly used cliché, it won't be a source of evil manipulation and will both be dealt with next chapter and part of the plot as we progress, so calm down. And come on, you can't tell me that the image of a laughing baby Harry teleporting all over the place isn't a funny one. Go on, try. I dare you.


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Harry Potter and everything associated with it are the property of J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended.

Author's Note: Here is the obligatory Diagon Alley chapter, which I admit I always love reading. Sorry for the delay, college has been taking up most of my time. And once again, this is unbeta-ed, so I apologize for any spelling or grammatical errors. Regardless, please enjoy! :)

* * *

Harry Potter and the Castle's Key

Chapter 1: Diagon Alley

* * *

**Privet Drive, June 1989**

The sun rose on another normal day for the Dursley family and their ward, young Harry Potter. Dudley was sitting in front of the telly, playing one of his video games. Vernon sat at the kitchen table, reading the newspaper, and Harry had just finished helping his Aunt Petunia cook breakfast. Setting the full English breakfast out on the table, Harry called out, "Dud, breakfast is on!"

There was a scramble as the younger boy raced into the kitchen sat down at his place. Harry and his aunt joined the two and they all settled down into their morning routine. It wasn't long before there was a small thud as the post arrived through the mail slot in the front door. Harry put down his juice and got up, getting the mail had always been his job.

Walking over to the door and picking up the envelopes and catalogues, he began idly flipping through them to see what had arrived. Coming to the end, he was surprised to find a thick envelop with his name on it in spidery green ink. Entering the kitchen and placing the mail on the counter, he returned to his spot and began to open it.

"Mum! Harry's got a letter! Who's it from, Harry?"

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon both looked up, a mite startled. Seeing him about to have it open, Aunt Petunia immediately snatched it from his hands, "Give me that, boy!" She turned it over in her hands, and her normally placid expression went pale and twisted with anger. She glanced at Uncle Vernon, who at the sight of the envelope had begun turning a deep purple, "Vernon, it's them."

"Harry, go to your room! Dudley, go back to your game."

"But Dad, I haven't finished yet!"

"Now, Dudley. This is important. You can finish up later."

Oh boy, this was bad. Just what was in that letter? Morosely, Harry snagged his unfinished toast and left the room, trudging upstairs.

* * *

It had been a few hours since breakfast, and Harry was still up in his room reading. He'd been trying to ignore the shouting match going on downstairs, but part of him was just so curious. They'd stopped a few minutes ago, and Harry hoped he'd find out what it was all about. Suddenly Harry heard the thick clumping of his uncle's feet on the staircase and he buried his face back in the book, trying to look innocent. The feet approached his door and with a heavy knock, Uncle Vernon opened the door and poked his head in.

"Put the book down, boy, and come on. We've something to tell you."

Silently Harry did just that, rolling off his bed and jogging a moment to catch up with his uncle's large stride. Coming downstairs, he saw that Dudley and Aunt Petunia were both sitting in the sitting room, and he and his uncle moved to join them.

An awkward sort of silence ensued, and the four of them sat there for a few moments before Harry's aunt held up the odd letter and spoke, her voice equally tired and angered, "It's an invitation to attend a boarding school, the same one your parents went to. It's not a normal school, it's a school of _magic_." This last word was said with such a scowl on her face, that even Harry understood that there was something-

Wait a moment. Magic?

_Magic?_

Confused, Harry was only able to mutter, "W-what?"

"Harry, your parents were wizards and witches and what have you. There. I've said it, do with it what you will."

"Petunia…"

"Yes," with that, she picked up another odd letter off her lap, this one far older and more wrinkled, and withdrew a bright red piece of paper. Firmly grasping it, she tore it in half and Harry heard the sound of a bird singing. Weird. "That will contact one of your kind's professors, they can explain it all, I'm done w-"

_Knock Knock_

Harry and Dudley both jumped a little at the sound of the front door, and Vernon, who'd managed to only turn a little purple, stood up and answered it, "Yes, yes. Get inside!"

Entering the house was easily the oldest man Harry had ever seen in his entire life. He wore an old tweed suit, and had a beard that reached down below his waist. He was wearing glasses in the shape of half-moons, and had a pair of twinkling blue eyes behind them. Harry supposed he could be a wizard, but it would have been better if he had a robe and hat, or a magic staff!

The old man looked around and found the two young boys. Only briefly glancing at Dudley, he turned his attention to Harry and caught his gaze. Entering the room, he spoke in a quiet, strong voice, "Hello dear boy. It has indeed been quite some time since I last saw you. I am Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And if you'll forgive me, you do look remarkably like your father did at your age, with your mother's eyes."

Harry gaped for a moment, there was too much to take in. Finally his mind kicked in and focused on the important bits, "You…knew my parents, sir? And I look like my father?"

Dumbledore's smile lowered a bit, and he frowned for a moment at Harry's aunt and uncle, "You did not know…hmm, one moment. Fawkes!" At his command, for that was surely what it was, a ball of flame appeared in the air beside him, sending the four occupants of Number Four Privet Drive lurching back for momentarily. At once the flames subsided and a magnificent bird appeared, hovering for a moment before landing on Dumbledore's shoulder. "Forgive me, this is Fawkes, my familiar. Fawkes, would you be so kind as to retrieve my photograph of the Order from my quarters?" Letting out a trill that soothed Harry's worries and felt wonderful, Fawkes disappeared in another ball of fire.

"Sir, what-"

"Fawkes is a phoenix, Harry. Wonderful creatures, their songs can grant peace and hope to even the most despairing of men." Another flash of fire and Fawkes reappeared, a framed photo clutched in his talons. "Thank you, old friend." Beckoning Harry over, Dumbledore showed him the picture. In it a number of people stood together, moving about and smiling. The old man pointed to the couple standing in the front, "James and Lily, along with those who stood against the Voldemort in the last war."

Harry was entranced.

Seeing his attention, Dumbledore withdrew a gnarled stick from his sleeve and twirled it about, causing the picture to wiggle for a moment before duplicating itself. "There, a copy for you to keep, consider it an early birthday present." Harry smiled, and the old man returned it with twinkling eyes. "Now, I'll be taking you to get your school supplies-"

Aunt Petunia cut him off with a snapping voice, "We won't be paying for him to go to your school."

Dumbledore's frown reappeared briefly, and he turned to face the Dursleys. Harry listened in as Dudley came over to look at the photograph. "Not to worry, his parents took care of his tuition when he was born, and left a small trust for him to obtain his supplies when he came of proper age. Now, as I was saying, I'll be taking you to Diagon Alley to obtain your supplies, so go and get your coat, if you will. Dudley, why don't you go with him for the moment, I'd like to have a word with your parents."

With that, Harry and Dudley scampered off upstairs. It took a few moments for Harry to grab his coat and lace up his trainers while Dudley was fascinated by the moving picture. Harry felt a little guilty as he took another minute just to watch the people in the frame and sadly, put it down on his dresser before heading back downstairs.

Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon were both a little pale, sitting on the couch, and Dumbledore sat in a comfortable chair that Harry had never seen before while a tea service floated in midair. "All set then, Harry?"

"Yes, sir."

"Marvelous!" Standing and waving his stick again, the tea service and chair promptly disappeared with a pop, and Dumbledore extended his arm. "Take my arm, we'll be traveling by apparition. It can be slightly disorienting at first, but don't worry, it's perfectly safe."

The moment Harry grasped Dumbledore's arm, he felt the oddest sensation, like being squeezed through a tube of toothpaste or a straw. They were being squished together and shrunk and squeezed and then it was over, and Harry barely took note of the alley they'd appeared in, letting go of the old man's arm and bending over in case he vomited. Dumbledore pulled out his stick again, waving it twice, and Harry immediately felt much better, his nausea and disorientation vanishing as if they'd never been there. Standing up, he took better note of his surroundings, a small alley with a few trashcans and cardboard boxes scattered about. "Umm, this is Dagon Alley, sir?"

Dumbledore chuckled, "_Diagon_ Alley, dear boy, and no. The pub across the way is the Leaky Cauldron, the entrance to the alley. I thought you might appreciate the grand entrance. Now come along, and do watch out for those vehicles. I hear they're quite dangerous."

Looking both ways and ensuring it was clear, Harry took Dumbledore's hand and walked across the street toward the dingy old pub that sat sandwiched between newer buildings. It was then he noticed something odd, and spoke up, "Sir, why are all the people walking all the way around the pub?"

"Wards, Harry, to protect the secrecy of our world. As muggles, that's a term for non-magical folk by the way, don't know about our world, there are spells in place that divert their attention. They cannot actually see the Cauldron, and if they wander too close, they suddenly have the urge to go elsewhere." Walking up to the door, Dumbledore opened it and gestured for Harry to enter.

* * *

Now this looked more like magic. The pub itself was as dingy on the inside as it was on the out, but there were all sorts of people in strange clothing sitting about. Dishes behind the counter hovered in midair cleaning themselves, and occasionally a drink or meal would float on out to a patron. Harry looked up at Dumbledore, who had his stick out again, tapping it against his suit. The tweed ensemble _flowed_ and turned into a long robe of midnight blue with tiny flashing and blinking stars all over it.

The man at the counter greeted them both, "Professor Dumbledore sir, good to see y- my word! Is that young Mr. Potter with you?" At this, there was a great clatter, as a number of the patrons dropped their tankards and cutlery, turning to gaze in awe at the duo. At the moment, Harry was quite confused and not a little bit frightened. All of a sudden, many of them got up and came over, offering hands to shake and words of thanks.

"Merlin!"

"Thank you, Mr. Potter, thank you so much!"

"'E's the spittin' image o' James, 'e is!"

"Dedalus Diggle, Mr. Potter. Wonderful to finally meet you!"

"Mr. Potter, it is such an honor to-"

Dumbledore swept out his arms, calmly setting Harry slightly behind him. "Ladies and gentlemen, please, some decorum. We're just off to do a bit of shopping today. If you don't mind?"

The crowd parted, though they retained their looks of awe and thanks. Dumbledore simply took Harry's hand in his own and continued on to the back of the pub. There a solid brick wall awaited them, and the old man simply drew forth his stick once more and tapped a series of bricks and they began rearranging themselves, turning into an archway.

"Welcome, Harry, to Diagon Alley."

Through the archway, there were so many different things going on that all Harry could do was stand with his mouth open, taking it all in. There were people in robes bustling back and forth. Shop windows had all sorts of things on display from spell books, shining telescopes and glowing stones to shops with brooms, tents, robes and trunks. Off to his left was a storefront bearing cauldrons filled with strangely colored objects, bearing such inscriptions as beetle eyes, troll nails, ashwinder eggs, and blisterwort. To his immediate right was a menagerie full of squawking animals, not even half of which he could identify.

"Now, I'm sure you must have a number of questions, so why don't we head over to Florean's and get an ice cream. I heard he's recently expanded his range of lemony treats and I've been anxious to have a look myself."

The old man led him onwards towards a parlor tucked away in the middle of the alley bearing the sign Florean Fortesque's, and opened the door for Harry to enter once more.

Soon enough they were settled down in a booth to the back, Harry with a miniature volcano made of chocolate ice cream, with actual lava fudge; the Headmaster with a stack of three bright yellow scoops of ice cream, extra lemon, lemon meringue, and citric catharsis.

A few bites later, Harry felt confident and happy enough to ask the first question that had popped in his mind, "Sir, why were all the people doing that?"

"Indeed, perhaps the most relevant question. The answer is both triumphant and sad, and I must apologize in advance should it affect your appetite. Tell me, Harry, what do you know of your parents, James and Lily?"

"Just their names, sir, and that they died in an accident."

"I am afraid, dear boy, that it was no accident. Many years ago, the wizarding world saw the rise of a dark lord who called himself Lord Voldemort. The fear he inspired was such that many witches and wizards still do not refer to him by name, calling him You-Know-Who, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. Now just as there was a dark wizard who rose up, so to were there good people who rose to oppose him. Your parents were amongst them, and that photo I gave you depicts a group I led during the war to defend against and defeat him."

Dumbledore took another few bites of his lemony concoction with a sad smile before continuing, "Eventually, right around your birth, your parents went into hiding for protection. The war was not looking very good for our side until something both terrible and extraordinary happened. Your parents were betrayed by man they thought they could trust, and Voldemort came to attack them himself. On October 31st, 1979, Voldemort killed your parents and then turned his wand against you. The Killing Curse, which had never failed to do its deadly work, failed that night. His curse struck you and rebounded, vanquishing him and leaving you with naught but the scar on your forehead."

"But…but what?"

"I know that likely raised more questions for you, and I am sorry that I do not know all the answers. Even if I did, I would not tell them to you now, so you may enjoy your childhood, but in time I will assuredly share what I know with you. For now, know that it is my belief that your mother's sacrifice protected you with an ancient spell that draws its power from one of the most powerful forces in the world." At Harry's pleading look, he continued, "Love, Harry. After that night, the war quickly drew to a close, Voldemort's followers disappearing or surrendering and you were titled the Boy-Who-Lived. It is likely that almost every witch or wizard in Britain knows your name, and I am sorry that you must bear such a burden."

"Okay, that's…that's a lot. I suppose I'll just think about that later. So, what's this school like? And my parents! What were they like?"

"Your parents were remarkably strong willed and good-hearted people, Harry. There is far too much to tell about them while eating an ice cream, but I promise you that during the school year you may visit and ask again, and I will endeavor to give you a far more complete answer. As to Hogwarts, it is Britain's oldest and most respected school of magic, founded approximately one thousand years ago. Students attend at least five years, until they take their O.W.L.s, the Ordinary Wizarding Levels. After which almost all continue on for another two years to achieve their N.E.W.T.s, the Nastily Exhausting Wizarding Tests. At the very start of their time there, students are sorted into one of four houses, each named for one of the four founders of the school: Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Salazar Slytherin. Hogwarts is an old castle, filled with many differing and changing facets. It is perhaps easier to see than to describe, and I would not wish to ruin the surprise."

As the two wizards continued to enjoy their confections, Dumbledore told the young man a few more stories about James and Lily Potter. Harry learned that they'd been sorted into Gryffindor, and were the Head Boy and Girl for their year, whatever that meant. He also learned that his father had been a natural at Transfiguration and a renowned prankster. His mother had excelled at Charms and Potions, and was the more rule abiding of the two. The headmaster described a few of the pranks and adventures they had participated in, and Harry listened with rapt attention, the knowledge a soothing balm on many of the questions he had growing up.

* * *

Before long, their treats were finished, and Dumbledore spoke up once more, "Now, I'm sure you still have many questions, and there are indeed many things we should discuss, but we have a lot to do today, so we ought to focus on that. Once the school year begins, I will find a time for us to meet and speak further, alright? So, the first thing we ought to do is get the money for your supplies."

The pair walked up the alley, passing by storefronts filled with all sorts of things, and vendors outside with strange objects in carts and cages and bins. Harry was torn from turning his head this way and that when Dumbledore spoke up, "Before we get to the bank, I must offer an apology and an explanation. I am sorry to say that I lied to your aunt and uncle regarding your financial situation." Oh, Harry supposed his parents hadn't paid for Hogwarts' tuition. Well, he could find a job, maybe, and tr- "In truth, you actually have a substantial bit of money to your name. While you may not understand right now…hmm, something we shall have to remedy, Harry, you are the last descendant of the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter. You are in possession of a family vault that holds the majority of your wealth and several artifacts, I imagine, and a trust vault holding a fraction of your wealth for your use. You will be limited to the trust vault until you come of age. While the Potters were not the wealthiest of the old families, they were far from destitiute, and I expect there will be a fair amount of money stored there." The old professor peered down at him over his half-moon spectacles, "I also expect that you will be wise and careful in its use."

They came then to the end of the alley, and before them stood a monolithic white building. Its pillars and steps gleamed in the rare bit of London sunlight, and Harry's eyes were drawn to the massive bronze doors at the top of the steps, and the inscription they bore.

_Enter, stranger, but take heed  
Of what awaits the sin of greed  
For those who take, but do not earn,  
Must pay most dearly in their turn.  
So if you seek beneath our floors  
A treasure that was never yours,  
Thief, you have been warned, beware  
Of finding more than treasure there._

Once he finished reading, his eyes found the two short people in uniform guarding the doors on either side, and seeing his attention, Dumbledore began speaking once more, "Gringott's Wizarding Bank. Run by the goblins, it is one of the safest places to store valuables in the wizarding world. The goblins are a proud race, Harry, so keep your chin up and be polite."

The pair entered the bank, its doors opening before them, and Harry took in the long hallway filled with tall desks. More of the goblins were sitting behind them performing various tasks. Some were weighing bits of gold or jewels, others were scribbling on parchment, and several were attending to the few witches and wizards who were inside. One of the goblins finished with a harried witch and Dumbledore began approaching him.

The teller peered at the two wizards over small gold-rimmed spectacles, and spoke up in a scratchy voice, "Yes, what is it?"

Dumbledore calmly stepped up to the desk and spoke, "Mr. Potter here needs to make a withdrawal from the Potter trust vault, number 687, after which the two of us require the use of a lesser ritual chamber for a period no greater than an hour."

"Does Mr. Potter have his key?"

"I have it here, held in trust for him until he came of age to join our world."

The goblin examined the key, and after weighing it on one of the small floating scales and examining a piece of parchment, continued on, "Everything seems to be in order. Additionally, the use of a lesser ritual chamber will incur the fee of nine galleons and sixteen sickles for every hour. You will be granted the use of one for an hour, after which if you are still present, you will be held accountable for an additional fee. Who is paying for the use?"

"It will be paid from my personal vault, number 1173."

"Very well. Griphook!" A goblin off near one of the lobby's many passageways walked smartly over, and the teller continued, "Mr. Dumbledore and Mr. Potter need to be taken to vault 687, after which they are to be taken to the Southeastern Lesser Ritual Chamber."

"Yes sir, Follow me please." Without further ado, he strode off, and the pair of wizards followed after him. Entering the doorway Griphook had been standing by, the three of them proceeded downwards for a minute before coming to a small rail station, occupied by a fanciful mine cart. "Enter the cart please. Do not fall out." Once they'd all sat down, Griphook promptly grabbed hold of the controls and released the brakes.

What followed was easily the most fun Harry had experienced in his life. The cart raced downwards, speeding faster and faster along the rails, diving and twisting deeper and deeper into the bank. At one point Harry heard a roar and caught sight of a gout of flame, but his attention was suddenly on the spiral down the cart had taken. The rail bottomed out over an underground lake populated by stalactites and stalagmites, and the cart began twisting its way between them. Over the edge of the lake they passed, a waterfall below them, and the track now curved quickly down and to the left, angling for a small chamber or passageway in the side of the massive cavern. Finally, the cart came to a stop at a small alcove, but not before managing to perform an entire loop de loop.

Griphook and Dumbledore stepped out quickly, and Harry moved to follow them, but for the life of him couldn't get the smile off his face. He made a promise then and there to visit his vault whenever he got the chance, if only for the ride down.

Finally taking stock of the large vault door in front of them, Griphook was quick to move forward and instruct, "Remain at a distance, key please."

Dumbledore handed him the key and the goblin inserted it into lock in the middle of the door. A number of gestures followed, with the goblin muttering quietly in a guttural language that Harry had never heard before. Moments later, the door to Vault 687 began slowly grinding open, and Harry was once again struck speechless.

The interior of the vault was smaller than he expected, given the size of the door, but the contents pushed all other thoughts aside. Piles of gleaming coins sat inside, heaps of gold, silver, and bronze. Some were stacked up, gold discs that must have been the size of small hubcaps. Likewise, the silver pieces stood in even greater quantity. The bronze ones weren't even stacked, they lay about in piles and mounds, too numerous to count. Beside him, Dumbledore spoke up, "The currency used by the wizarding world, gold galleons, silver sickles, and bronze knuts. There are 17 sickles in a galleon, and 29 knuts in a sickle. It may sound confusing, but the numbers arithmantically reinforce the inability to duplicate the coins. For now, gather some of each," here the old wizard handed Harry a leather pouch, worn and smooth with age, "One of my old money-pouches. You're welcome to it. Be sure to pick up more of the sickles and knuts than galleons. You'll end up using them far more often."

Harry walked in and bent down, scooping up a number of the coins into the pouch, which never seemed to get any bigger or heavier. Strange, it must be a magic pouch. Once he'd finished, he left the vault, and as Griphook began closing it, Harry turned up to Dumbledore, "Sir, is it a magical pouch?"

"Indeed, dear boy. To remove the proper amount, simply reach in thinking about how much you need. The pouch will do the rest."

Once more the three climbed into the fancy mine cart, which Harry was already starting to replace with roller coaster in his mind, and with Griphook at the controls, they were off once more. The ride was shorter this time, taking one of the many branching paths upwards. All too soon, they'd arrived at another rail station, and Griphook bustled them out of the cart and headed down the gilded hallway before them. Coming to a door, he unlocked it with a key that Harry would swear the goblin didn't have before and spoke up, "The Southeastern Lesser Ritual Chamber. You have been allotted one hour's usage, after which you will incur additional fees."

The two wizards entered the chamber, and Harry immediately noticed the line of glowing runes etched along the base of the wall. Dumbledore had taken his stick out again, and waving it, a pair of chair swirled into existence. Taking a seat, he beckoned Harry to do the same before speaking.

"I am sure you are curious as to our purpose here. It will require a bit of explanation." Harry and Dumbledore both sat in the chairs, and the old wizard twirled his stick twice. A tea service appeared, floating in midair, and Harry plucked the cup and saucer out of the air as they floated over to him. Settling in with his own cup, Dumbledore continued, "Now, most if not all magical children perform accidental magic growing up when they experience extreme emotions. It's usually very benign and can be helpful. Healing a scrape, or growing hair out, for example. Occasionally, however, the magic performed has a chance of hurting the child, and their magical core is bound until they begin their schooling. You, dear boy, were performing accidental magic before you were a year old, quite early. At one point, I'm told however, you apparated back to your crib after refusing to be put to sleep. Apparition, again, is the means of teleporting ourselves around, and if done improperly can lead to painful consequences. The most common is splinching, the act of leaving a part of yourself behind or arriving with it in the wrong place."

"Apparition's the squeezing thing right? I did that once, I remember now. I was in class and some bullies were picking on Dudley outside, and then I was there."

"Most intriguing! Yes, it takes a good bit or power to perform it. To do so with your core bound…fascinating! Nevertheless, after speaking with Madame Pomfrey, who was the mediwitch caring for you and Lily, your parents agreed to bind your magic until you were to attend Hogwarts. As they are, of course, no longer with us, I will be removing the bindings in their place. It is a simple procedure, just get comfortable and I will perform the spells to do so. You may feel your magic reacting, but don't worry, it's perfectly natural. Are you ready?"

Harry sat back in the armchair, placed the tea back on the service, and nodded. Smiling, Dumbledore began waving his stick and chanting and Harry felt _something_ begin to stir in his belly. As the chanting continued, he felt the feeling grow stronger and warmer, and he began worrying a bit. It kept getting warmer until it was uncomfortably hot. Dumbledore's smile faded a bit as he kept chanting, and as he spoke the final words, Harry felt something holding the feeling back break, and the heat grew unbearable.

"Fawkes!"

Beyond the flash of heat, Harry saw the professor's phoenix appear in a ball of fire and heard it begin singing. Immediately, he felt better, and the heat in his chest began to recede, until it was just a pleasant warmth that suffused him. The phoenix kept singing, however, alighting on the back of Harry's armchair, and he smiled up at it. Eventually, the feeling faded almost completely, but Harry could still feel the slight warmth emanating from his stomach.

"Remarkable. I am sorry, my boy. I did not expect such a reaction…"

"It's alright. It's just a warm feeling now."

"Indeed, quite intriguing. Your magic responded most favorably to Fawkes' presence, I would forward a guess that when you obtain a wand, you will likely favor a phoenix-based one. Wonderful!" Waving his wand, for that must be what it was, the old wizard made another tea service appear, "I believe we have a few minutes left, have a biscuit and take a moment for everything to settle down."

Picking up a biscuit off the tray that floated closer to him, Harry took a bite and looked to Dumbledore, "A few minutes, sir?"

The old wizard smiled, and the teapot poured out another cup that drifted over to Harry, "Yes, by my estimation, the unbinding ritual took approximately forty minutes to complete. Now, once we leave we'll be obtaining your school supplies." With that, Dumbledore rose sprightly out of his chair, and waving his wand, made them disappear. The two then left the room, once more greeting a disgruntled looking Griphook, who led them back to the lobby.

* * *

After they left Gringott's, Dumbledore led Harry over to a nearby shop bearing the sign Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment. "First we'll want to get you a trunk, which ought to make carrying around purchases a bit easier." He pushed the door open and walked in, Harry on his heels.

"Welcome to Wisea- Oh! Professor Dumbledore! What can I do for you, sir?"

"Just picking up some supplies, Webster. How is your family doing?"

"Quite well, sir. Wally's been trying out the clarinet. He might have the ear for it someday, but until then I kind of wish he'd give my ea- bless my soul! Is that Mr. Potter with you?"

"Indeed, Webster. In need of a trunk for Hogwarts. I trust we can avoid any spectacle?"

"Of course, professor. Mum's the word. Now then, Mr. Potter, I'm Webster Wiseacre, owner and manager of Wiseacre's Wizarding Equipment. We've got everything from apellorators to zulu assegai. Trunks are back behind the mirrors and foe-glasses. Right this way, and ignore the brass mirror. Keeps trying to tell us all how good we'd look with a mohican, whatever that is."

The three wizards walked towards the back of the store, coming up to a plethora of trunks stacked everywhere in all sorts of shapes and sizes. There were big, heavy wooden ones with steel bindings, and light, delicate ones with copper inlays. Off in the back, he could see a bright green one, and Harry didn't know what it was made of. Some were sitting there calmly, others faintly glowed, and a few snapped their lids at him when he got too close.

"Here we are, your standard school trunk, oak with brass fittings. Guaranteed to last you a good fifty years, longer if you take good care of it."

"Webster, if I may: perhaps a multi compartment trunk? Something for potions and books?"

"Well, I've got a six lock trunk here, comes with a built in potions laboratory…"

The old wizard coughed lightly, "Simpler, storage only perhaps."

"There are a few three-locks here. Shelves and cubbies in the second and third."

"That should do nicely."

Harry had been shifting back and forth on his feet. Yeah, some of those things sounded neat, but did he really need it? He didn't want to be any more different, so he should probably just get a normal trunk, "Really, sir, there's no need for anything fancy, I'll just get a standard trunk."

Dumbledore turned away from Mr. Wiseacre and faced him, "Nonsense, child. It is a useful tool, one that you will certainly have use for. Keeping your books in fine order is something everyone should do, and keeping your tools and ingredients protected is simply the safest manner of storing them. Why, when I was a boy, I had a basic trunk and at one point while rummaging through it for my potionmaking supplies, I managed to crack a pair of ashwinder eggs under a vial of thessian razorquills. The eggs are used in fire-based potions, Harry, and the quills are exceedingly sharp. The scar on my arm reminds me to keep my tools and ingredients stored in good condition whenever it twinges." At this point, Dumbledore's countenance lightened and his eyes began twinkling, "Furthermore, as the ingredients were under my robes at the time, I spent the next day with a hole the size of a quaffle in them, inconveniently revealing my rear to the whole school. Not that I noticed until breakfast time, of course."

Mr. Wiseacre chuckled a bit and gestured to a number of varying trunks he had floated over, explaining each in turn, "Well, Mr. Potter, we've got several different styles here. The oaken ones are the most common trunk styles. I've got a mahogany one here, a particular favorite of most purebloods, quite a fine wood. A few pine ones, not my personal recommendation, they won't last quite as long. Cedar'll hold magic very well, good if you want lasting enchantments. Lastly a pair of cherry and walnut each."

Harry looked over the trunks as the shopkeeper pointed them out, and eventually settled on the smaller Cedar trunk with copper fittings. Mr. Wiseacre waved his wand and the trunk rose into the air, floating over to the counter. He then led the two wizards about, helping them select some of the other supplies he'd need. A set of brass scales, a portable potion kit, and a pair of cauldrons joined the trunk, followed by a very nice telescope. With that, Harry followed the older wizards back to the counter and Mr. Wiseacre rung up the total.

"Four galleons, twelve sickles, and eight knuts. Why don't we just knock off the change and call it four galleons square. It's not much, but consider it a thank you for all you've done for us."

Harry thought _four galleons_, and reached into the money pouch, withdrawing the four gold discs and laying them on the counter. "Thank you, sir."

The old man waved it off and smiled at him, "Bah! Thank _you_ Mr. Potter! And remember to come to Wiseacre's for all your wizarding needs."

* * *

The two wizards left the shop and Dumbledore led him further down towards their next stop, an apothecary filled with all sorts of odd smelling things in bins, jars, and on shelves. A quick bit of shopping landed Harry with a plethora of ingredients of all colors and smells. A bit more looking netted him several potionmaking tools, and a number of vials, phials, jars, bottles, and ampoules. Before they left, Professor Dumbledore waved his wand as if conducting an orchestra, and all the purchased ingredients packed themselves into the containers and then ensconced themselves in their proper spaces in his trunk.

Their next stop was even quicker, popping into Scrivenshaft's to pick up a number of writing supplies. Harry promised himself he'd practice writing with the quills and ink, as he'd never done it before and didn't want his handwriting making look like an idiot. The parchment also answered his question as to what the letter had been made out of, and Professor Dumbledore explained that homework and essay at Hogwarts were usually assigned a set length of inches or feet.

Soon enough, they were walking towards their next stop, a bookstore named Flourish & Blotts. This was the second most exciting thing Harry had been looking forward to, though it would have taken third if he'd known about the Gringott's cart system. Here was a store filled to the brim with actual, real, magic tomes. Wiseacre's might have strange things, and the apothecary might have even stranger ones, but here was everything about this world that he wanted to know. Awesome.

It was filled with people shopping, and Harry tried to smooth his hair down to cover the scar. Before they entered, Dumbledore paused and handed Harry a piece of parchment, "These are the books required for first-year students. They'll be to the right of the counter on the ground floor. I'll be going upstairs, there are a few other books you may find useful, and I know where most of them are." At Harry's curious look, the old wizard chuckled and explained, "You'll find, Harry, that many of the most successful witches and wizards are the ones who study and practice their craft extensively, and I've become something of a regular at bookstores."

The two entered the shop, and Dumbledore swept up the stairs on his immediate left. Harry began weaving his way back towards the shelves near the counter, and unfolded the piece of parchment Dumbledore had given him.

* * *

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

_of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

UNIFORM

First-year students will require:

Three sets of plain work robes (black)

One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

One pair protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

Please note that all pupils' clothing should carry name tags

COURSE BOOKS

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

_The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) _by Miranda Goshawk

_A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot

_Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling

_A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch

_One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore

_Magical Drafts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger

_Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander

_Defeating the Dark Arts: a Primer on Defense_ by Dimitri D'Avenant

OTHER EQUIPMENT

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set glass or crystal phials

1 telescope

1 set brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad.

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

* * *

Harry looked up and began scanning the shelves. He found them all in short order, though _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ was too high on the shelves for him to reach, and he had to ask a passerby. The old witch looked delighted and promptly squeaked and bustled away when he thanked her. Carrying the stack over to the counter, he saw Dumbledore handing the teller a number of coins and lifting a similar stack of books off the counter.

A few minutes of waiting on the witch in front of him and paying the teller left Harry and Dumbledore to leave the shop. As soon as they were out, the old headmaster held out his stack of books for Harry's perusal. Harry was a bit taken aback, not having figured that the entire stack was for him.

"Sir…thank you, but…this is too much!"

"Nonsense, dear boy. Every witch and wizard should have their own library, and it's always best to start early. I myself have quite the collection. It seems as you grow older, more and more people want to give you books, and less and less want to give you warm woolen socks." With that, he gestured with his wand and the books floated slowly by Harry as they organized themselves in the shelves of his trunk as he held it open.

_Compendium of Regular Concotion Reagents_ by Charles Rose.

_The Apprentice's Guide to Basic Potionmaking Skills _by Septimus Shrevewood

_Hogwarts, A History, 1975 Edition_

_Genealogies of Wizarding Britain and their History, 1980 Edition._

_Introduction to Fundamentals of the Magical World for Muggleborns_ by John Davis

_Working Witches and Wizards! What's Waiting in the World for You?_ by Winifred Westchester

_Formative Fiscal Factoring _by Ferdinand the Fabulous

_Ollivander's Guide to Wand Care and Maintenance_ by Garrick Ollivander

_Tales of Beedle the Bard _compiled by Benjamin Beedle

_Adventures of the Grimm Brothers _as told by Antonius Grimm

Dumbledore explained each as they floated by, "The first two are older textbooks useful in the Potions classroom. The first doesn't cover as many ingredients as the currently assigned book, but it does cover how they are used and their effects in far more detail. The next two offer a look into the history of our world, and in particular, the Geneology is updated every twenty years, and includes a bit of information regarding the Potter family. The next three should offer you a look towards how our world works today. Working Witches and Wizards will give you an idea of what sort of jobs are out there, and may stimulate an interest in planning ahead- never too early for that. Fiscal Factoring is a basic guide to our economy and the management duties every family must perform. When you come of age, you'll need to know how to take care of yourself and your family. Wand care is a more important topic than some give it credit, that ties into making sure your tools are properly taken care of. The last two are simply stories often told to wizarding children, and I thought you may enjoy reading them."

"Thank you, sir."

"Now, only a few stops left. Let's get you fitted for a set of robes before we head to Ollivander's, the wandcrafter's."

Dumbledore led Harry down the alley to a store bearing the name Madame Malkin's. They walked in, and the old witch bustled out from behind the counter, greeting them, "Afternoon, Professor. Your robes aren't quite done yet, I'm waiting on a bolt of solar yellow from Madame Fairway. Given your companion, however, I'm guessing we're here for a set of first year robes? Well, step lively, child, let's get you measured up." With that, she took Harry's hand and led him over to a stand, waving her wand about. A number of measuring tapes began floating about Harry, taking in every measurement Harry could think of and a few he hadn't. He didn't know just how the distance between his nostrils was needed for a proper fit, but he wasn't about to argue.

Professor Dumbledore took a seat near the window and pulled a tome out of his sleeve to read in the meantime, and Madame Malkin pulled a number of robes out, consulting the list of measurements on her parchment, her wand flitting about shortening and lengthening various bits. Half an hour, two galleons, and a few sickles later, Harry's trunk had all of his school dress packed away in his trunk. They both bid the Madam goodbye, and headed even further down the alley towards a dusty old shop.

The sign read Ollivander's: Makers of Fine Wands since 282 B.C. His own wand, that was what he had been looking forward to ever since this shopping trip started.

* * *

They entered the shop, the small bell at the top of the door ringing as it opened. At first glance the shop appeared to be deserted, but that idea departed when an old man with wispy hair crept out from the recesses of the shelves.

"Mr. Potter, wonderful, I wondered when I would be seeing you. It seems like just yesterday your parents were in here getting their wands."

"My parents, sir?"

"Indeed. Ollivander's has been making wands for quite some time, you know. Your mother had a perfect match, willow, 10 ¼", nice and swishy, it was particularly adept at charms work. Now, your father favored a mahogany wand, 11", quite a bit of power, and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say he favored it, in truth it is the wand that chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter, never think otherwise."

"If I many, Garrick, Harry here has just had his core unbound, and his magic responded most favorably to Fawkes' song."

"Fascinating. Almost all the wands I have crafted use one of three cores, you see. Dragon heartstrings, unicorn hairs, and phoenix feathers. I still have many of my ancestors wands, of course, ones that found no wizard to match them.

What followed was a long process of holding and waving about the wands that Mr. Ollivander offered him. Some took a minute, other mere seconds before the wandmaker yanked them out of his hand and handed him another one. As time passed, the old man became a whirlwind, examining and offering a great number of wands. The pile in front of him grew larger, and the surroundings grew more and more strange, as some of the wands reacted quite explosively.

Strangely, Mr. Ollivander grew more and more excited as time went on, smiling wider and wider as it passed. "Try this, Oak and Drag- No, no, that won't do at all. Here, Hawthorne and no, that's not it. How about this, Cherry and- oh, my, no. That certainly isn't it. Never fear, Mr. Potter, your wand is here, waiting for you. How about this, Holly and Unicor, no. Close though…I do wonder…" With that, the old man disappeared way back down the shelves, and Harry wondered if he had given up.

Quietly, the old man returned from the back of the shop, a dusty box in his hand, "Hmm, I do wonder. A reaction with Fawkes, you say? I didn't think it would, given its brother….but perhaps…"

Mr. Ollivander opened the box and held aloft the wand inside. Tentatively, Harry took hold of it, and immediately felt a rush of warmth suffuse him. He could feel the wind picking up around him, but it too was warm and light, and Harry felt something in him just calmly accepting the wand. If he hadn't been a boy, Harry thought he would have started crying, and he hurriedly drew an arm across his eyes.

Mr. Ollivander just clapped his hands excitedly, "Wonderful! Holly, 11", with the core of a phoenix feather, donated no less by Fawkes himself. Extraordinary, given what its brother did."

"Its brother, sir?"

Dumbledore looked almost regretful, and spoke quietly, "Fawkes was kind enough to donate two feathers, Harry."

"Indeed, and the second feather went into another wand. The brother of your own wand, the very one that gave you the scar on your forehead."

"You mean, Vold-"

Mr. Ollivander cut him off, "Yes, as much as it pains me to admit that I sold the wand he used. Yew, 13", incredibly powerful. Capable of performing great feats of magic. And Riddle did indeed perform great feats of magic. Terrible, yes, but great."

Harry looked up at Professor Dumbledore, and the old man nodded sadly, "Voldemort, or as he used to be known, Tom Riddle, did indeed attend Hogwarts many years ago, and was Head Boy for his year no less. One of the most brilliant students to pass through Hogwarts' halls. A true shame, what he chose to use his skill for."

* * *

The two left, and Dumbledore spoke up once more, "Well now, I suppose there's only one stop left, and it is one I will leave you to yourself. You are allowed to bring a pet with you, a cat, owl, or toad. I myself must step inside the school's quidditch supplier, and pick up our order. If I may make a suggestion, owls are used to deliver post in the magical world, and make wonderful pets and familiars. Obtaining one would let you write back to your family, I imagine your cousin may like to hear of our world."

"That sounds like a good idea, sir. And yeah, Dudley likes getting post, and he really liked the moving picture."

"In that case, I would recommend visiting Eeylop's, it is on the way. Shall we?"

Dumbledore led him up the alley, and instructed Harry to wait in the store for his return. The headmaster shuffled off as Harry walked inside.

A stately wizard sat reading behind the counter, and looked up when Harry walked in, his eyes hidden behind think spectacles, "Welcome to Eeylop's, how can I help- ah. Mr. Potter, Fascinating. Here for an owl, I assume?"

"Yes sir."

"Of course, right this way. Let's have a walk around, see who you like and who likes you."

Harry immediately followed him around the store amid the hooting and barking owls. All sorts of breeds rested and flapped around in cages, looking at the new person amongst them. Passing by a regal eagle owl and an number of hooting barn owls, it wasn't until they got near the back that the calling died down.

Harry looked to his right, as a beautiful snowy owl hopped off its perch, drawing closer to the wizard and barking happily. Harry smiled and walked over, slowly reaching his hand out. The owl nipped it lightly as he drew near, and settled down near the door of the cage.

"Well now, it seems you've found your owl. Beautiful girl, been here few months, now. She's a spitfire, always biting anyone who came close. Guess she's just been waiting." The old man opened the cage, and the owl flew out, alighting on Harry's shoulder. Her claws hurt a bit, and Harry hoped that he could get a perch too.

That hope was answered quickly as the shopkeeper led him toward the counter, absently directing Harry to pick a cage out from the stacks near the counter. One perch, a bag of treats, and a book on owl care later, Harry sat near the window playing with his owl and trying to think up a name for her.

Before long, Dumbledore returned, and after admiring the snowy owl, the three left. Quickly, they made their way out of the alley, through the pub, and once more into the alleyway they'd arrived from. Harry took the old wizard's hand, and with another squeezing sensation, they were in the backyard of Number Four Privet Drive.

They walked in, and Dudley immediately raced over at the sound of the door, looking excitedly at the trunk and owl. Aunt Petunia was somewhat cross at the sight of the owl, but simply told Harry that she was to be his responsibility and his alone, she would stay in his room.

Before he left, Dumbledore addressed both Harry and his aunt one last time, "Here is your ticket. The Hogwarts Express leaves from King's Cross on September 1st. The platform is hidden, like the Leaky Cauldron. To reach it, walk through the pillar dividing platforms Nine and Ten. It looks like a solid wall, but is in fact just an illusion. A final note, I would advise you to begin studying your books to prepare, but students are not allowed to actually perform magic outside of school until they come of age. Do so, and you will receive notice from the ministry, first warning and then fining you should you continue. Magic can be dangerous if you aren't careful, and I wouldn't want you to accidentally hurt yourself. Now, I must be off, and so bid you all a pleasant day."

The headmaster departed, and Harry was left answering all of Dudley's questions. The first of which was that no, he didn't see any witches flying around on broomsticks, but apparently they did and he wasn't allowed to bring his own broom with him, not that he had one. In between the questions, Harry couldn't help bust start grinning. This was the best summer ever, and he couldn't wait for September to come around.

* * *

Author's Notes: A note regarding Dumbledore. I am going to be portraying him a bit differently than in canon (for reasons that will become obvious later on) but he will be acting more like a mentor to Harry and the others in this fic. Is he evil? No. Is he manipulative? Absolutely, he's a politician. Is he still a barmy old goat? You bet. Just thought I should clarify, as Dumbledore's character can be turned so many ways (and is, with occasional good cause, in fanon). And while he has quite a number of facets, there are a few that tend to crop up frequently. Manipulative!Dumbledore, Leader!Dumbledore, Politician!Dumbledore, Insane!Dumbledore, etc. One that in my opinion doesn't get enough attention is his role as a teacher. He's been at Hogwarts for at least 50 years! For example- one little change given the difference in Harry's escort. Hagrid took him to the Alley and gave him Hedwig. Dumbledore took him to the alley and gave him books.

Additionally, a pet peeve of mine, sorry for the soapbox. I'm always irked when reading a fic and I come across a bank statement that reads "49,000,000,000 galleons, 2 sickles, and 6 knuts. Be warned, fellow authors! You are in danger of thinking like muggles, you muggly muggling muggles, you! Yes, in the real world, a bank does simplify your savings like so, but the wizarding world is not the real world, their currency is physically based on gold, silver, and bronze. Just because the sum total may be worth 20 galleons in silver doesn't mean that the number will be automatically counted in galleons; those poor silver sickles exist! There are piles of them, and I imagine that the sickles and knuts play a far more common role in commercial transactions than galleons. The statement should reflect that, i.e. 3,652 galleons, 28,981 sickles, and 41,902 knuts. Can they all be rounded up to galleons? Yes. Should they? Absolutely not.

Yes, there will most certainly be pranks. Looking at canon, it's my belief that Fred and George are easily geniuses, they just don't give a damn about anything academic. Harry's no slouch himself, and this fic will develop him more. That said, the four are 11 years old in this particular fic. The pranks will reflect that, and will grow in complexity and style as they all get older.

A small note: Yes, I used Griphook. Yes, it's a blatantly fanfictionalized cliché. But come on, it's just not Harry's first trip to Gringott's if everyone's favorite little traitorous goblin isn't present. :)

Also, an apellorator takes your name and rearranges the letters into something else. How else did you think Riddle came up with 'I am Lord Voldemort?' Some spell like in Birth of a Name, by Nonjon?


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